


Anti-kink: Threesome

by ash_carpenter



Series: Anti-kink [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1457914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_carpenter/pseuds/ash_carpenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next instalment in my anti-kink series (archived <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=ash_carpenter&keyword=Anti-kink&filter=all">here</a> on LJ).</p>
<p>Dean thinks that having a threesome with a hot chick will be totally awesome - and he and Sam can definitely handle the jealousy. Dean's an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti-kink: Threesome

**Threesome**  
  
  
“So, I thought of one.”  
  
Sam looked up from his newspaper at Dean, who was slumping in the vinyl seat across from him, taking an absent sip of coffee. When no further explanation appeared to be forthcoming, Sam rolled his eyes. “One what? One hunt? One fruit beginning with the letter ‘q’? One reason why you’re _not_ a complete dumbass...?”  
  
“No!” scowled Dean.  
  
“Yeah, didn’t think so. I can’t think of one either.”  
  
“Shut up, smartass. No, one thing I wanna try.” Off Sam’s blank look, he cast a surreptitious glance around. “You know,” he elaborated unhelpfully, cocking his eyebrow.  
  
Fortunately, Sam was well versed in Dean-speak, even when his brother chose a random moment to be uncharacteristically reticent. Smiling, he said, “You mean, _sexually_...?”  
  
“Dude, shut up!” spluttered Dean, looking around wildly and generally acting as if the local Sunday school might be listening in.  
  
Stifling a smirk, Sam asked, “So what did you think of?”  
  
Verifying again that a table of nuns was not in the immediate vicinity, Dean whispered conspiratorially, “Threesome.”  
  
Sam immediately bristled.  
  
“If you wanted to fuck someone else, you should have just said.”  
  
“Oh, come on, man.” He rolled his eyes at Sam’s prissy bitchface. “You wanted to watch me with someone else! Jed, remember?”  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes at the memory of the guy he’d dubbed ‘Douche’. “Yeah, I remember. And I think we can safely conclude that I can’t handle it. You remember what happened to that guy?”  
  
“Yeah, you punched him and tried to throw him in a dumpster,” replied Dean, waving his hand dismissively. “But it’ll be different this time! I mean, it won’t be a man. Obviously.”  
  
“Why ‘obviously’?”  
  
“Dude, I’m not gonna have a threesome with another guy,” asserted Dean. “That’d be gay.”  
  
“Gay,” deadpanned Sam. “Seriously?”  
  
“Totally,” nodded Dean. “What?”  
  
“That’s really what you’re going with? With no irony whatsoever...?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “We’re not gay. We’re brothers.”  
  
Sam snorted incredulously. “And, what? Incest trumps queer? Cancels it out, maybe?”  
  
“Something like that,” agreed Dean flippantly. “The point is, I like pussy. You don’t have one.” When Sam glared at him, he added, “Although you _are_ starting to get a little loose.” He accompanied the words with his most irritating, shit-eating grin.  
  
“Is this supposed to make me want to indulge your fantasy? ‘Cause, let me tell ya, it ain’t working.”  
  
“Aw, come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” teased Dean with a wink. He nudged Sam’s foot under the table, sliding his boot along his brother’s instep, and pouted a little.  
  
Sam could feel himself caving. Jesus, that fucking _mouth_. And Dean said that his dimples were deadly...  
  
“Fine,” sighed Sam. “But you have to promise that we’ll stop if...”  
  
“If what?”  
  
Sam tried to think of an ending to his sentence that didn’t make him sound a) like a possessive jerk, or b) like a whiny, irrational girlfriend. “If I don’t like how she’s touching you or, you know, I feel left out.”  
  
Yeah, that probably wasn’t it.  
  
Dean gave a lopsided smirk. “Princess, I promise that you’re my very favourite girl, okay? And if you start throwing a jealous hissy fit, I’ll stop and politely ask the girl to leave. Just promise you won’t throw her in a dumpster.”  
  
“I’ll try not to,” he conceded grudgingly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“What about her?”  
  
Sam made a face. “She’s a bit skinny.”  
  
Dean gritted his teeth at the tenth refusal in a row, each accompanied with some real or imagined fault. He scanned the patrons of the bustling college bar again. “Okay...Her?”  
  
“Her face is lopsided.”  
  
“Yeah, but her rack isn’t,” muttered Dean. “Fine. What about that one?”  
  
Sam studied the hot brunette, who was all but tumbling out of a low-cut sweater. “She looks...dumb.”  
  
“Okay, that’s it,” snapped Dean. “We’re not looking for intellectual conversation here, Sammy. In fact, being dumb is probably a bonus. We’re trying her.” He put his hand on his brother’s chest. “You stay here; I’ll go get her on the hook.”  
  
“Why do I have to stay here?” demanded Sam sulkily.  
  
“Because you couldn’t pick up a woman if she had handles.”  
  
“Hey! For your information, I manage just fine, thanks. Besides, she’s probably the kind of girl who wants the taller, younger, slimmer type...”  
  
Dean scowled at him, outraged. “Listen, pal. If you wanna get laid at all tonight, I suggest you shut your pie hole.”  
  
Sam really wanted to throw another insult at his brother. But he wanted to get laid more. So he grudgingly shut up, crossed his arms across his chest, and jutted his chin toward the slut. “Fine, Casanova. Go break out your sleazy pick-up lines, and let’s hope she’s really as dumb as she looks.”  
  
“Hopefully,” nodded Dean, ignoring his little brother’s sarcasm. Really, he was kind of adorable when he was being a pissy, jealous little bitch.  
  
Twenty seconds later, Dean was stalking back to Sam, who was openly laughing at the fact that he’d just being slapped around the face.  
  
“So, how’d it go?” he drawled.  
  
Dean rubbed at his cheek. “Turns out that if you’re gonna proposition a chick for a threesome, _“So, my brother and me were wondering...”_ isn’t such a great opening line.”  
  
“Not an incest lover, huh?”  
  
“No,” sighed Dean. “Prude.”  
  
“Yeah. What kind of a world are we living in when stupid sluts aren’t turned on by brother-fucking?”  
  
“I know you think you’re funny, but sometimes your sarcasm is just counterproductive.”  
  
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Sorry. Didn’t realise this was such Serious Business.”  
  
“We’re talking about getting laid, Sam. _Of course_ it’s serious business,” snapped Dean. Jeez, his brother was a douche sometimes. “I’m gonna go try Blue Sweater over there. Or her friend Eyebrow Piercing. Possibly both...”  
  
Although he was slightly suspicious that they were in fact lesbians, Sam nodded and watched his brother wander on over to their table with his very best “you know you want it” swagger. Which, in all honesty, was actually pretty good. Sam wanted it, at any rate.  
  
Prising his eyes away from his Dean’s ass (which had been virgin territory until he’d got hold of it, he smugly reminded himself for the ten thousandth time), Sam sat back on his barstool to watch the girls’ reaction.  
  
After a minute or so, it became quite obvious that they were favourable to his advances. Both were leaning in to listen to his bullshit – which he no doubt thought of as his “best lines” – and one of them laid a hand on his arm, smiling. Soon after, the hand was sliding its way down toward...his ass! The audacity of it! That ass belonged to _him_ goddamnit, and...  
  
Hmmm. The same girl – Blue Sweater – also had her spare hand on the other girl’s ass.  
  
Ha – so they _were_ a couple! Which meant...Which meant Dean thought he was propositioning them, when in fact _they_ were propositioning _him_! The skanky dykes wanted to use Dean as a convenient plug for their sockets! He was about to be used and discarded like the world’s very best (and most annoying) sex toy!  
  
Clearly, Sam needed to rescue him.  
  
(And no, for the record, he totally wasn’t jealous at all, nor slightly concerned that Dean might think it was the best idea since mini Philly cheese steak sandwiches.)  
  
Sam charged on over to their table, well aware that he wasn’t projecting “you know you want it” so much as impersonating Lurch from the Addams Family.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
Dean didn’t even need to turn to look at Sam to know that he was being “claimed”. Sam had used “Dean” # 456, his second most proprietary “Dean”, trumped only by # 107, which was most commonly used in the vicinity of angels and demons trying to either kill them or pimp their bodies out to various joy-riders.   
  
Dean sighed, not sure what had got Sammy’s panties in a twist this time. He turned to him, pulling on all his big brother resources to give his most stern “if you fuck this up, I will end you (or at least give you a dead arm and play Metallica on full volume for a solid week)” glare. Then he turned back to the girls, who were regarding Sam curiously.  
  
“Ladies,” he began (because he’d totally forgotten their names), “this is my...uh...Sam.”  
  
They gave him a slightly odd look before Eyebrow Piercing couldn’t help but notice the way that Sam was looming all over Dean’s personal space. “Is he your boyfriend?”  
  
“What? No!”  
  
Sam levelled a flat glare at Dean, incensed by how horrified he sounded.  
  
“No, he’s my...Uh, I mean, yeah. Boyfriend,” nodded Dean, grimacing as if the word tasted bad. Still, it would be less likely to earn him another slap than “brother”.  
  
“No, I’m not,” refuted Sam, crossing his arms. If Dean thought it was such a _terrible_ proposition, then Sam didn’t even want to be his stupid boyfriend. Not that he normally did, but...Anyway. Whatever.  
  
“What?” Dean looked shocked.  
  
“How can I be? You’re not gay, remember?”  
  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake...” Dean rolled his eyes. “Are you having another hormonal episode?”  
  
“Are you sure you two aren’t boyfriends?” asked Blue Sweater, clearly trying not to laugh. Well, not trying all that hard actually, the bitch.  
  
“No, we’re brothers,” asserted Sam as he slid his arm around Dean possessively, ignoring his attempts to slap it away. Ha! That should get the lesbians off their hands – and, with any luck, earn Dean another slap.  
  
“Dude!” hissed Dean, wondering how on earth the situation had got so out of hand. This – chatting up women – was his thing! At least, it used to be. Until a certain asshat brother had come along and made him all monogamous and crap at picking up, apparently. He was so under the thumb that it was embarrassing. God, he hoped Sam didn’t want to do something gay like getting matching rings – or any rings, for that matter.  
  
“Huh?” Dean suddenly interrupted his own thoughts, realising that he’d missed a crucial development in the current train wreck. “What was that?”  
  
“I said, cool!” smirked Eyebrow Piercing. “Gay brothers is _so_ hot; there just isn’t enough of it around! We’ve been reading this online porn, based off a book I think? Anyway, there are these two brothers who hunt vampires...”  
  
“Demons,” piped up Blue Sweater, a lascivious look plastered all over her face.  
  
“Oh yeah, demons. And they’ve grown up in this fucked-up, too-close environment with an overbearing dickhead father, right?”  
  
“Oh God...” moaned Sam in realisation, caught between face-palming himself and face-palming (or possibly bitch-slapping, but who was counting?) the girl.  
  
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” exploded Dean, who was personally going to rip Chuck’s balls off next time they saw him. “That’s just sick.”  
  
He knew that it was a teensy weensy bit hypocritical to be annoyed about his and Sam’s starring roles in slash fiction, but the fact that they were completely screwed up didn’t mean that the weirdos enjoying the slash fiction weren’t screwed up too. And they probably didn’t even have a jacked upbringing to blame it on! Not that he really blamed John for the fact that he was fucking his brother, but it was sort of a convenient excuse.  
  
“Sick? Wait, so you two aren’t incestuous gay lovers then?” asked Eyebrow Piercing with a pout, looking unreasonably disappointed.  
  
“Uh...That’s not the point. And we’re not _lovers_. We’re...” Fuckers? No, that wasn’t right. There really wasn’t another convenient word. Oh God, Sam was his lover. They’d be taking windy walks to go look at rainbows and buy crockery any day now.  
  
“Oh, yay!” grinned Blue Sweater, clapping her hands excitedly. “Let’s go to my place!”  
  
“Wait, what?” asked Sam, befuddled. How on earth had the disastrous conversation actually led to scoring?! Wow. Dean must be even more ridiculously attractive to women than he was to Sam, because Sam really couldn’t see any other reason why the girls would want to screw him when he was being such a tool. Well, Sam also still wanted to screw him, obviously, but he’d built up an immunity to Dean’s tool-ish behaviour long ago. Mostly.   
  
“Yeah! Come on, let’s go!” The girls grabbed Sam and Dean’s hands and tugged them toward the exits, both men too astonished to protest. And also quite confused about whether or not they even wanted to protest.  
  
As they stumbled down the street behind the girls, who seemed to live within a stone’s throw of the bar, Dean hissed, “Are we about to get molested by lesbians?”  
  
“I think we are,” whispered back Sam, trying to decide if he was scared, morbidly fascinated or turned on.  
  
“That’s... _awesome_ ,” grinned Dean, and Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
Before they knew it, they were inside and sprawled on large beanbags next to one another, each with a girl straddling them. Sam almost gagged in surprise, giving a muffled shout, as he suddenly found his mouth full of tongue. As it turned out, Eyebrow Piercing was also Tongue Piercing. He’d barely managed to get it together to respond when she pulled back and shoved his face toward Dean’s. “Kiss him!”  
  
Dazed, Sam was about to suggest a brief timeout so that he could gather his errant wits, but then his mouth was mashed against Dean’s (with the assistance of an insistent hand at the back of his head). Thinking sort of flew out of the window at that point and he groaned into the kiss, immediately opening his mouth and tangling his tongue with Dean’s.  
  
“Unf, that’s hot,” gushed Blue Sweater, feeling up Dean’s ass as he kissed his brother.  
  
Sam and Dean grabbed hold of one another, attempting to grind their bodies together but completely thwarted by the beanbags. They both grunted in frustration as they ended up undulating on the stupid things, legs flailing madly as they tried to turn to one another with all the grace of a couple of beached whales.  
  
“Hey, don’t forget that we want to play too,” chuckled Eyebrow (and Tongue, and probably Everywhere Else) Piercing, tugging on Sam’s hair until he released Dean’s mouth with an annoyed curse.  
  
Finding himself helplessly pinned to the (probably evil) beanbag by a hundred and fifteen pound lesbian, Sam just allowed her to molest him while his eyes sought out Dean. His brother was having his face chewed off by the other girl, who had shoved up his tee-shirt and was tugging on his nipples. Sam could see Dean tensing, his body flinching in an aborted attempt to shy away.  
  
“Hey!” he growled as he spat his girl’s tongue out of his mouth. “He doesn’t like it like that.”  
  
“You wanna do it for me?” asked Blue Sweater, slightly irritated.  
  
Well, yes, actually. Sam had to bite his own lip to prevent himself from saying as much, and was fortunately distracted for a moment by the two girls leaning across to kiss one another. Evidently, Tongue Piercing was more appreciative of nipple pulling than Dean was.  
  
Okay, so the live girl-on-girl was pretty hot, Sam had to admit. And it certainly helped that Eyebrow Piercing’s skirt was up around her hips and she was grinding down on Sam’s lap, her panties rubbing against his denim-covered (and suddenly considerably more perky) crotch. His eyelids fluttered a little, and when the girls stopped making out with each other, he willingly let himself get pulled back into the action.  
  
As his girl began to move down his body, he let his head roll to the side and locked stares with Dean. His brother’s eyes were dark and lustful, lids at half mast, and Sam just wanted to fuck him into the middle of next week, which must have been pretty clear from his expression if Dean’s heated little growl was anything to go by. In fact, Dean looked kinda like he was about to disinterestedly push Blue Sweater off his lap and throw himself at Sam.  
  
Dean was feeling pretty damned annoyed with himself, actually. There he was, with one of his favourite porn fantasies right there within groping and grinding distance, and all he could think about was his brother’s dick. It was humiliating.  
  
Speaking of Sam’s dick, the chick was currently pulling it out of his pants and working her fist up and down it.  
  
(And she was totally doing it all wrong, by the way. Sam liked a tighter grip and longer, slower strokes, with a little twist every second or third downstroke. Stupid lesbian.)  
  
Dean was barely even noticing what his own girl was doing to him, although he wished she’d stop twisting his nipples like she was trying to tune in the classic rock channel, too intent on watching Sam. And trying not to get pissed off about the fact that someone else was touching him. And he was actually _liking_ it, the tool, if the ridiculous tent pole he was sporting was any indication. Dean decided he liked Sam much better when he was being his usual gay, uptight self, and Dean was the only one who got to see him all riled up.  
  
He was just about managing to keep it together until Eyebrow Piercing licked a broad sweep over the head of Sam’s cock, making him arch up and gasp loudly. He probably liked the tongue stud, which was just disastrous, because Dean very much enjoyed being the best Sam had ever had, and he was not getting his goddamned tongue pierced so that he could compete with some hippy dyke.  
  
“Okay, that’s enough,” he snapped, shoving Blue Sweater onto the floor in an undignified heap and then pushing the other girl off his brother, oblivious to her outraged squawk. “We’re leaving.”  
  
“Wha...?” asked Sam dazedly, blinking up at Dean. Fuck, his brother was sexy. He tried to grab his hand and pull him down on top, but then a screeched barrage of insults reminded him where they were. Screwing Dean on the girls’ beanbags after they’d been bodily removed from said beanbags in the middle of a make-out session probably wouldn’t go down very well. “Yeah, okay.”  
  
As they stumbled out of the apartment, Sam trying to stuff his dick back into his pants before any neighbours saw, they both began to chuckle.  
  
“At least you didn’t throw her into a dumpster,” pointed out Sam and Dean groaned, knowing that he was about to be called on his possessive caveman act. He’d rather just pretend that he hadn’t turned into a jealous little bitch during what should have been one of the hottest moments of his life.  
  
“Shut up,” he practically pleaded.  
  
“Aw, what’s the matter?” teased Sam. “Didn’t you like the nasty girl touching your boyfriend...?”  
  
“Dude, shut up!”  
  
“You wuf me...”  
  
Dean gave him a shove, hurrying back to the Impala so that he didn’t have to dignify Sam’s comments with a response. He grunted in surprise as he was barrelled into and slammed up against the driver’s door, Sam’s body pressed close to his.  
  
“If you hadn’t done it, I would have,” murmured Sam directly into his ear, sending pleasurable shivers through his body.  
  
“Yeah?” asked Dean with a throaty rumble, groaning as Sam rubbed up against him and he instantly, painfully hardened.  
  
“Yeah. Hated seeing someone else with you. Just wanted to get you under me, show her you were mine,” he said possessively, voice low and feral.  
  
“Oh, fuck...” Dean’s teeth closed on Sam’s jaw, their cocks hard against one another. “Motel?”  
  
“Hell yeah.”  
  
In record time, they were back at their room, Dean having driven at a steady twenty-five miles over the limit the entire way. His erection hadn’t dampened one bit – probably because Sam had been mauling him the entire way home – and they had practically run from the Impala to their door. Dean just wanted more of Sam being bossy and alpha, not that he was going to admit it directly. Getting his baby brother riled up was hot as hell.  
  
So he was more than content to found himself shoved up against the door as soon as the latch clicked, Sam tight against him, huge and hard and lustful.  
  
“Hey, you know, maybe we should just stick to twosomes,” suggested Sam huskily, sliding his hands through Dean’s hair and leaning in to mouth at his jaw. He kissed up to his earlobe and then flicked his tongue over the flesh and closed his teeth gently around it. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”  
  
“Fuck,” murmured Dean, voice breathy. He tilted his head to the side to give Sam room to work, slipping a hand beneath his brother’s tee at the back and pressing it against his lower back, bringing their bodies together. He opened up eagerly when Sam kissed him properly, tangling their tongues together wet and slow and dirty.  
  
Soon they were tugging at one another’s clothes as they gasped into each other’s mouths, tumbling down on the bed.  
  
“Come on,” encouraged Dean, palming Sam’s half-exposed cock and wriggling to get his brother between his thighs. He moaned as Sam pressed forward deliberately to widen his legs, dragging his groin along Dean’s underside. “So fuckin’ sexy...”  
  
Sam smiled against his lips and then started pulling at their jeans in earnest, trying to expose them enough to get the job done. Fuck, they were so hot for each other, like teenagers just learning what their dicks were for.  
  
Realising that he couldn’t get Dean’s pants off without moving, which he was loath to do, Sam yanked them down as far as possible and then pushed at his brother’s legs until his knees were back against his chest, bending him in half. He slid his leaking cock past Dean’s tight little hole, riding his crack for a couple of strokes.  
  
“Oh fuck, yeah,” hissed Dean, grabbing Sam’s biceps and trying fruitlessly to pull him closer. “In me, now. Come on.”  
  
Sam fumbled around, trying to find some discarded lubricant. He cursed as his hand scrabbled through the mess on the nightstand, thoroughly distracted by the way that Dean couldn’t help hitching his hips up, practically trying to impale himself.  
  
Sam made a sound of triumph as he finally located an almost empty tube, squirting what he could on his fingers and stuffing two inside Dean without ceremony.  
  
Dean arched his back, gasping, and hooked his legs around Sam’s ass as his little brother worked him. “Oh yeah, right there...”  
  
As Sam continued to prep him – far too extensively, in his opinion, the little over-achiever – Dean got to thinking about their failed experiment. Personally, although he didn’t want to admit something so girly to Sam, he really would be happy to just fuck him exclusively for the rest of their lives. (Not that it was such a big commitment, considering the short-ass life expectancy of their profession.) But getting Sam all riled up and jealous certainly did have its perks, such as the rather pleasant ones he was currently enjoying.  
  
Knowing how goddamned dirty Sam got when he felt like he needed to prove his prowess, Dean said flippantly, “You know, we could always ask Cas to have a threesome with us.”  
  
Sam froze.  
  
Dean wriggled unhappily, trying to get Sam moving again. “Dude, come on.”  
  
“Cas, huh?” asked Sam, deceptively calm and yet with a bitchy lilt to his tone.  
  
Oh crap.  
  
“So this whole threesome thing was just a ruse so you could fuck your angel buddy?”  
  
“What? No!”  
  
“It was, wasn’t it,” demanded Sam, pulling his fingers out of Dean’s ass, to a heartfelt protest. “You secretly want to fuck him.”  
  
“It’s not a secret,” protested Dean. Realising that he hadn’t really phrased that very well, especially if Sam’s flaring nostrils were anything to go by (and did he know that he looked like a racehorse on steroids when he did that?), Dean quickly amended, “I mean, there is no secret! I don’t want to fuck Castiel.”  
  
“Sure, right,” agreed Sam sarcastically, getting off Dean completely. “That’s why you drool all over him.”  
  
Dean groaned; this really wasn’t going as planned. He’d thought Sam would get a bit pissy and want to prove how much hotter than Castiel he was. Dean hadn’t realised that Sam was _actually_ jealous of the angel, which was just stupid. “Sam, why would I want to fuck Cas? It’d be like screwing a blow-up doll, only with less personality.”  
  
“Oh, so you _have_ thought about it then?” countered Sam with a hint of triumph, like he’d scored a point or something.  
  
Wishing he could rewind and _not_ derail the hot almost-fucking, Dean suddenly remembered what a ridiculous position he was in, with his legs folded back against his chest and his ass hanging out. Self-consciously rearranging himself and trying to hitch his pants up, he practically whined, “Sam...”  
  
“No,” spat Sam grumpily, crossing his arms across his chest. “You want Cas so bad? Fine. Go hit _him_ up for an orgasm.”  
  
With that, he flopped down on his own bed, dragging his computer onto his lap and generally ignoring every plea, demand and threat that Dean could conjure up. All he said, in fact, was some mumbled garbage that Dean couldn’t quite catch, although he was fairly sure it had involved something about shoving fluffy white wings up tight asses.  
  
Finally giving in, staring down dejectedly at the top of his hard cock, which was poking out of his jeans, Dean wondered how things had gone so horribly wrong. He’d started the day with the bright, shiny promise of a threesome, and now it had deteriorated to the point where he was going to have to have a onesome if he wanted any relief!  
  
It totally blew. And, unfortunately, the situation was the only thing doing any blowing. Dean sighed loudly.  
  
A few seconds ticked by.  
  
Dean wasn’t great with silences, especially when he was too horny to engage his upstairs brain.  
  
“Hey, Sammy? Do you think it’s a worse sin to fuck your brother or an angel of the Lord...?”  
  
Sam glared at him thunderously. “If you shut up right this second, I might – _might_ – consider fucking you again one day. In the distant future. And not smacking you in the face right now, in the immediate future.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean answered quickly, figuring that he might as well quit while he was behind.   
  
Ten seconds later, Dean’s suspicions that Cas was actually a sneaky, kinda vindictive, mess-with-your-head-for-fun dick (and that he was only _pretending_ to be completely oblivious) were confirmed. It was simply impossible that an angel could actually have timing that bad.  
  
With a flutter of wings, Cas stood before them serenely, trench coat flapping.  
  
“Hello, Dean. Sam.”  
  
Sam scowled extra hard at both of them. “Oh, I see that your angel-gram is here.”  
  
“Sam, don’t be an ass,” sighed Dean with an eye-roll. Trying to actually fasten his pants over his stupidly persistent erection, he turned his attention to Castiel. “Now’s not a great time.”  
  
“Yes, I can see that,” he replied matter-of-factly and slightly impatiently, voice implying that it was never really a good time where the Winchesters were concerned. “But unfortunately I do not care.”  
  
“Of course you don’t.”  
  
“Actually, it’s good that you’re here, Cas,” cut in Sam in his most extra specially bitchy voice. “Great. Dean was hoping that you’d help him out with his little problem.”  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam’s over-emphasis on the word ‘little’.  
  
“You have a problem?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s six-four, whines like a bitch and can’t keep its mouth shut.”  
  
Castiel looked confused. “I don’t have time for riddles, Dean.”  
  
Rubbing his hand over his forehead, heaving an exasperated sigh, Dean waved his hand at his brother. “I was talking about...You know what, never mind.”  
  
“I don’t think that I can solve all the problems that you and your brother have,” said Cas with conviction. He might be an angel, but he doubted even his Father could work a miracle of that magnitude.   
  
“My only problem is that Sam is jealous and unreasonable and apparently can’t take a joke,” grumbled Dean. “Well, and his hair’s stupid too, plus his music taste _sucks_. But I guess there’s no helping that.”  
  
“And _my_ only problem is that Dean is a complete dick, plus a total slut, and apparently his favourite fantasy involves being in an angel sandwich!”  
  
“What?! I never said that!”  
  
“You did too! Practically.”  
  
Dean gave a disgusted snort. “You really need to sort out your hormones, Samantha. I was _obviously_ not serious. I mean, you can’t just go around banging angels! Well...except for that one, but that totally doesn’t count because she was a girl and there was that whole grace issue...”  
  
“Oh, calling me a girl’s name. How _original_ , Dean! And it totally does count because angels are supposed to be androgynous, so it’s more like screwing an ‘it’ anyway. Which you would, because you’re a man-whore!”  
  
“Well, if an angel’s an ‘it’, then what the hell’s a _demon_?! A skank, that’s what. And you just couldn’t wait to shove your dick in one of those!”  
  
Castiel watched them arguing, bemused and slightly alarmed. He tried clearly his throat, but failed to catch their attention, evidently too embroiled in their discussion (which seemed to centre around who’d fornicated with the least human creature, although that seemed like somewhat of a spurious issue, as far as Castiel could see). Clearly, it was not a good time.  
  
And, wait a minute...Did Sam think that he was an ‘it’?  
  
“Maybe I’ll just speak with Bobby.”  
  
Unsurprisingly, he was completely ignored. Sighing, he prepared to leave, concentrating his mind on the salvage yard in South Dakota. Through the familiar and comforting sounds of his feathers and displaced air, he caught the next few words of their argument and decided that leaving had been a well-timed decision.  
  
 _So help me, if you say one more word, I’m gonna kick your overgrown ass!_  
  
 _Yeah, I’d like to see you try..._   
  
He’d appeared during the middle one of their “wrestling matches” before, and it had led to a great deal of embarrassment all round.  
  
Although admittedly naive about certain aspects of human activity, even he’d been skeptical as they’d stammered through an explanation involving hot rooms leading to nudity and severely chapped lips requiring family-sized tubs of Vaseline, which had then been ‘slipped on’, with unfortunate anatomical consequences.  
  
He’d politely ignored the sheer improbability of their ‘fall’ ending upside down on the bed with not only Dean’s penis but three fingers embedded inside his brother. And he’d even graciously pretended not to see the vibrating plastic phallus lying next to them, not wanting to hear Dean conjure up a credulity-straining explanation involving back massagers.  
  
Really, it was enough to test the patience of a saint, let alone an angel...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sam and Dean lay panting on the floor, having tumbled off the bed right around the time of Dean’s second orgasm.  
  
Sam carded a hand through Dean’s hair; he wasn’t quite sure when they’d forgiven one another, but it had been sometime in between grappling in headlocks and the aforementioned orgasms. And they’d only broken two pieces of furniture this time, which was a definite improvement.  
  
Dean nuzzled against Sam and he pulled him closer, chuckling.  
  
“What?” asked Dean sleepily.  
  
“Cas looked pissed.”  
  
Dean smiled against Sam’s neck, hand resting comfortably on his hip. “Yeah,” he agreed. And then, because there was a malfunction between his brain and his mouth, he added, “It was hot.”  
  
“Dean...”  
  
After hearing the tone of his brother’s voice, Dean prepared himself for another bout of “wrestling”, and really couldn’t find it in him to care that their security deposit was definitely going to be a write-off.  
  
Threesomes had been an even better idea than he’d expected.  
  
  
  
THE END.  



End file.
